


Devil's Lake

by Ohcassie, SaraPBateman



Series: Dark!Winchesters Universe [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Also dean needs god, Angst, Bully Dean Winchester, Cas Whump, F/M, Hospital, M/M, Mentions of homophobia, Nearly Human Castiel, Slave Castiel, Slave!Cas, Trauma, Whore!Cas, dracula references because why not, hurt!castiel, mega angst, mina harker - Freeform, pimp!dean, prostitute!Cas, sam and dean are not so much dark as much as they are just mean and co-dependent
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-16
Updated: 2019-06-23
Packaged: 2019-10-11 08:49:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17443703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ohcassie/pseuds/Ohcassie, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaraPBateman/pseuds/SaraPBateman
Summary: Devil’s Lake is a continuation of the first installment of the Dark!Winchesters Universe, Blood Bag.Castiel continues to act as the Winchesters’ unwilling servant. After exterminating what had to be the world’s largest vamp nest, and ultimately rescuing Castiel, Sam is seriously injured. As is Castiel, who has suffered weeks of torture and trauma. Dean drives as quickly as he can to the nearest hospital.





	1. Chapter 1

“Keep pressure on his wound. Cas? Are you listening to me? Cas!”

 

“Yes, Dean- I-I’m trying to.”

 

“What do you mean you are trying? Just do it!” Dean’s voice was terribly loud in the small space of the Impala.

 

Castiel kept one of his arms across Sam’s chest and under his right arm, pulling him up, and keeping him from slipping down into the seat. His other hand was pressing Dean’s now thoroughly soaked shirt against Sam’s bleeding back, but the blood just kept seeping through, flowing right through his fingers.

 

Sam was bleeding so much.

 

“Dean.” Castiel’s voice was soft, especially with the weight of Sam on his chest, making it hard to breath after so much smoke inhalation. 

 

Dean didn’t answer, he probably hadn’t heard Castiel.

 

“Dean.” Castiel tried saying, this time a little louder.

 

Still no answer.  _ This is so exhausting. _

 

Castiel took another deep breath, and tried to gather enough air in him to repeat Dean’s name a third time. “Dea-”

 

“WHAT?” Dean’s voice roared through the car, startling Castiel, and causing him to jump hard enough, that Dean felt it from the front seat. Sam had definitely felt it, his face twisting in pain as he let out an agonized groan. Well, he was making sounds, and he could feel pain. That was a good sign. Maybe Castiel didn’t have to tell Dean about the blood after all. Especially since Castiel now had a sneaking suspicion that Dean was purposefully ignoring him out of fear that he had bad news about Sam’s condition. 

 

“Sam? Buddy, you alright?” Dean’s voice has taken on a much softer tone, and the eyes that flicked up to the rear view mirror this time weren’t angry or threatening, but afraid and searching. Sam didn’t answer, and had stopped stirring completely.

 

“Be careful, dumbass, don’t jostle him like that again.”

 

The blood was still seeping, pouring right past his fingers. Castiel couldn’t look at it anymore. He decided to stare ahead instead and watched as trees zipped past the window across from him, and rain pelted it furiously.

 

He suddenly shivered, as he realized just how cold it was, the frozen air biting through the thin material of his shirt. Sam’s body was the only thing keeping him partially warm. 

 

Looking down now, Castiel realized Sam was slipping down into the seat. At first he tried dragging Sam back up with one arm, but when that didn’t work, he let go of the weeping wound, and put both of his arms under both of Sam’s, pulling him up, until Sam’s head was pushed right under Castiel’s chin, and his wound was pressed against Castiel’s chest. Warm blood instantly soaking through Castiel’s clothes, staining the bruised skin of his chest crimson. 

 

Pulling Sam up had taken a lot of effort, and Castiel had already been exhausted, using energy he did not have. He tried to will his arms to roll sam over, and find the wound, to press against it again, but they would barely twitch. 

 

“Dean.”

 

“What.” Castiel could hear the cold fear in Dean’s shaky voice, as it broke on the single word. 

 

“I-I can’t.”

 

“What?”

 

A short silence stretched between them, as Castiel tried to work up the breath and energy to speak again.

 

“You can’t what?” Dean said, this time his words came out demanding and impatient. 

 

“Can’t. Hold. I can’t hold the shirt against it. I.”

 

“Cas, man. If he dies, I swear you will wish you had never came into existence.” Dean’s words were threatening, but his tone was absolutely mortified.

 

Castiel heard labored breathing in the car coming from closeby, he looked down at Sam to see if maybe he was waking up. Sam’s hair tickled his jaw, and Castiel found himself enthralled by its softness.  _ How could such a rough man have such soft hair? _ Sam hadn’t stirred, still completely and utterly still. 

 

A moment later, Castiel realized the sound was coming from him. He tried to slow himself down, but really didn’t know how. The frustrations of the bathtub and ‘waterboarding’ with Paul were coming back as Castiel struggled to catch his breath. 

 

Castiel shifted, and realized that Sam’s blood had also soaked through his pants now. Sam was going to die if Castiel doesn’t slow this down somehow, if he isn’t already dead. All Castiel could do was squeeze Sam closer, pushing his chest against the wound as pressure. Sam’s hair was completely in his face now. It smelled...good, comforting, and so foreign from the scent of blood and pus that Castiel had gotten so used to over the past couple of weeks. 

 

It seemed to Castiel that the bleeding was slowing down, but that could just be because he couldn’t see it anymore since the wounds were pressed to his chest and everything was already too soaked to tell. But he was doing something right.  _ I am not going to make anymore mistakes now, I will do this right. I am going to be good. _ So he scooted down further under sam, until sam’s cheek was touching Castiel's, and wrapped his arm’s slightly tighter around Sam’s chest. It was exhausting to squeeze at sam like this, and it was even more exhausting to have Sam so on top of him...but he was sure of it now...the blood had stopped. 

 

Relief washed through him, as he pulled his arms tighter, encouraged and energized by the small accomplishment. He hadn’t realize how afraid he was for Sam, how  _ devastated _ he would have been if he had died.  _ Why? Sam’s always been more hostile towards me than Dean. _ But deep inside he felt he knew the answer...he was attached to the Winchesters. He... _ loved _ them?  _ ‘Not quite sure what that means…’ _

 

He had been aware of Sam’s sluggish and fading heartbeat from the moment Dean had put Sam in his arms. But now, he could have sworn that Sam’s heartbeats have grown stronger. He was actually doing something right? He was  _ actually _ doing something right! He was being good! A bubble of laughter broke out of him as happiness and...he wasn’t really sure what...flooded his chest. 

 

“What? Is he awake? What are you laughing at?” Dean’s voice came, insistent and importunate from the driver’s seat.

 

As Castiel opened his mouth to speak he realized that he was crying. Shaking too. But he wasn’t going to let any of his feelings distract him from what he was doing. He adjusted his hands on Sam’s chest and squeezed with his arms like he was doing before. Sam still wasn't bleeding.

 

Another giggle escaped Castiel, as he finally opened his mouth to answer Dean, “He- Not bleeding. I found out how.” Castiel paused to catch his breath. “His heartbeat is strong now. Better. Not dying anymore.”

 

Dean could hear tears in Castiel’s weak, but joyful voice.  _ ‘Does he actually care if sammy dies or not?’.  _ Dean decides the answer to that question is ‘No.’; why would Castiel care what happens to Sam? If he had cared, then he would never have given them away to the vampires. Dean considers that perhaps the vamps had coerced Castiel into giving them away...but then why would he give them so much detail? There’s no way the vamps would have grilled Castiel specifically on the kinds of weapons that he and Sam used, especially not the guns. Dean can’t think of a situation in which the vampires would somehow  _ force _ Cas to tell them that Dean has an M24 in his trunk, or that he keeps sage smoke bombs and grenades in the box under the backseat...or about Bobby.  __

 

Regardless of how dark an image this cast on Castiel, the news filled Dean with an exhilaration, and his shoulders sagged quite visibly with relief. He had been two seconds from pulling Sam into the front seat and tending to him himself, or maybe consider the thought of letting Cas drive, which was just NOT going to happen. The stupid town doesn’t have any real hospitals, just some small, sad clinics. The nearest hospital is in another town that’s twenty-five minutes away. 

 

⥈ ⊕ ⥈ ⊕ ⥈ ⊕ ⥈ ⊕ ⥈ ⊕ ⥈ ⊕ ⥈

 

There was silence in the car. Dean could previously hear shifting in the backseat, which indicated to him that Castiel was still awake, but now, it was silent. 

 

“Cas?”

 

No answer. Not until Dean opened his mouth to say it again.

 

“Yes, Dean?” came Castiel’s soft reply. It sounded out of breath and broken. 

 

“How is he?”

 

“Still not...bleedin’. I…” Cas ran out of breath.

 

“Alright, just keep doin’ what you’re doin’ . But, uh, can you hum or something? So I know that you’re not passed out.”  

 

“Yeah.” 

 

Castiel knew plenty of enochian songs he could be humming. However, he had sworn never to sing them again when his brothers had forsaken him to Raphael. All the other songs he knew were from Dean’s life. He had learned them from going through time and watching over him to learn as much as he could about the bold human. So, Castiel decided to hum the song he had learned was Dean’s favorite, and the one he could still remember crystal clear, even as an ‘ex angel’. 

 

The impala was filled with the soft rumble of Castiel’s humming. The notes of  _ Hey Jude _ filled the air, changed the atmosphere of the car. Some of the fear drained out and some warmth leaked in. 

 

Dean tries not to get too comfortable in the shifting mood of the Impala, he wasn’t going to let his guard down around Castiel anymore, not after what just happened to Sammy. ‘No, that is never going to happen again. Ever.’ Dean thinks to himself as he turned the impala’s wiper higher against the beating rain. ‘The next time I trust that traitor bastard will be when I’m pissing on his funeral pyre.’

 

Castiel hummed the entirety of the song, two times, when a voice interrupted him. 

 

“Dee?” Dean felt his heart ache at the sound of sam’s strained and confused voice calling out his childhood nickname.

 

“I’m right here, Sammy.”

 

Sam shifted against Castiel, turning and tilting his head in the dark to look at Castiel. 

 

_ Dean’s in the front seat, Sam. _

 

It took Castiel a moment to realize that he had not said that out loud. Castiel could see Sam’s confused and dazed expression even through the dark. His eyes were glazed over, and as he tried to shift and get up, his face suddenly twisted and he let out a cry of pain. Castiel tightened his arms to keep sam from moving anymore. Sam started to struggle sluggishly, causing Castiel to start panicking.

 

“Sam! Calm down. Its me, Castiel. D-Dean’s driving.” 

 

Sam stopped struggling, but Castiel could still feel Sam trying to look at him in the dark, his body rigid and stiff. 

 

Dean made a turn with the Impala, and Castiel’s head started spinning. It was becoming harder and harder to stay awake. He started humming again, that way Dean would be better notified when Castiel became completely unconscious. He felt Sam’s form finally relax against him. He leaned his head back and tried his best to keep his eyes open. 

 

A couple minutes later, the impala pulled into the emergency parking of St. Alexius Health Devil's Lake Hospital. The bright red lights reading ‘EMERGENCY PARKING ONLY’ shone onto the impala’s dashboard and filled the car with eerie red light. Castiel felt completely numb and boneless, unable to assist Dean when he ran around the car to the back and opened the door, quickly getting Sam out. 

 

The sight of Sam pale and lifeless in Cas’s arms was straight out of Dean’s nightmares. There was blood everywhere. So much blood. He pulled Sam out by his right arm avoiding his left so as to stay away from the wound on his shoulder. He pulled Sam’s arm around his shoulder, and quickly realized it would be impossible for him to carry Sam inside by himself, considering that there was a wound on his left leg that he had not noticed before. It was bleeding through his pants, but that's about all he could tell about it. He couldn’t see if it was a blade wound or a gunshot wound. 

 

All of a sudden, Cas was standing in front of him, almost as if he had flown there like when he had been an angel. He looked holy, and ethereal in the red light of the emergency signs, his hair silhouetted as it was soaked through with rain, and blown about by wind. It looked like a dark crown, framing his divine features, and his glowing blue eyes…He looked like shit, and about two seconds from collapsing. Yet somehow, he was standing in front of Dean and moving to hold Sam up from the other side. He was the most beautiful thing Dean had ever seen. 

  
  
  


⥈ ⊕ ⥈ ⊕ ⥈ ⊕ ⥈ ⊕ ⥈ ⊕ ⥈ ⊕ ⥈

 

They burst through the doors of the emergency area of the hospital. It was surprisingly quiet for a Friday night. There was a woman standing at the desk in front of the door, laughing loudly, and another sitting behind the desk, typing quickly into the computer in front of her. It took the laughing woman a minute to catch her breath and notice them.  

 

“Oh. Oh my god! Mandy, call in the emergency team.”

 

The woman on the computer looked up, and flinched when she saw him. She jumped up from her chair and threw herself at the phone. Dean hadn’t noticed the other woman walk up to him. 

 

“Alright, I need you to hold him up for another couple of seconds. Ok?”

 

Dean swallowed and nodded shakily. 

 

“You need to answer a few questions for me, can you do that?”

 

“Ye-uh-yeah.”

 

“Ok. What is your name?”

 

“D-Dustin Rogers.”

 

“Are you bleeding?”

 

“Yes, but it's not bad. Don’t worry about me. He’s bleeding a lot worse. You need to take care of him first.”

 

“I understand that, Mr. Rogers, I will get to him in a minute. Where are you bleeding from?”

 

“Uh, my leg.”

 

She turned her attention to his leg, kneeling down to examine it closely. 

 

“How did you get this wound?”

 

“I don’t know.”

 

She stood back up and looked at Cas, who was staring intently at Dean’s leg, shocked to see the wound. 

 

“Sir?”

 

Cas kept on staring, he leaned forward a bit to get a better look, and sam’s weight shifted forward dangerously. Dean grabbed Cas’s arm from behind sam’s back, and gave him a painful squeeze. He looked up abruptly at Dean, moving Sam back into place, and finally saw the nurse. 

 

“Yes? Yes.”

 

She looked at him with concern, and he stared back at her with confusion. Finally, she continued saying. “Are you bleeding?”

 

“I do not believe that I am currently bleeding.”

 

“Alright, did you hit your head?”

 

“No, I don’t recall hitting my head.”

 

A group of nurses with a hospital bed came in from around the corner. They pull Sam out of Dean’s reluctant arms and Cas’s exhausted ones. Carrying him off around another corner. The nurse was still standing in front of them. 

 

“I need to know what hurt him.”

 

“I don’t know. We were hunting, and something just...uhhhh.” Dean is losing his focus, he struggled to keep the lies coming.

 

“What happened, sir? Did he get shot?”

 

“I am not sure.”

 

“So you found him like this?”

 

“Um, yeah, well it was dark so we didn’t see what got him.”

 

“Ok, well, I need to see your license, and the police will ask for your hunting license when they get here so you should have it ready.”

 

“Yeah, let me just go get it from the car.”

 

“No problem.” she turned to Cas, “Now, what is your name?”

 

“Hey, buddy? Do you remember where you put my wallet after you got us lunch?” Dean interjected before Cas could tell the lady his real name and get them all in trouble. Dean grabbed his elbow, and pulled him away from the nurse. Cas turned and stared at him for a moment, and cocking his head to the side, he opened his mouth, and Dean  _ knew _ he was about to say he never got them lunch, or that he never took his wallet, or call Dean by his real name, or some other stupid shit, so he quickly talked over him and squeezed his arm again hoping that would be enough of a signal, “Yeah, you  _ definitely  _ did. Now, come  _ show me _ where you put it.” 

 

Dean dragged Castiel out of the hospital, not that Castiel was really resisting, just that he was having a very difficult time putting one foot in front of the other. He was still really confused as to what Dean had meant about his wallet. He had never given Castiel his wallet, he had no idea where dean’s wallet was. But now he has to show Dean where it is. Maybe he did give it to Castiel, but he just couldn’t remember. And now he lost it. Sweat broke out on Castiel’s brow. ‘ _ That’s what a bad boy would do.’ _ Does that mean Dean’s gonna punish him? Paul would have. He would have whipped Johnny, and he would have told him how much of a bad boy he’s been. 

 

They are getting closer to the car now. Castiel swallowed.  _ What is Dean going to do to me? _ As they got to the car door, Dean let go of Castiel’s arm to get the keys out of his pocket. Castiel looks around. He thinks about running away, but quickly realizes that that is not an option. The only reason he is still upright is because Dean has propped him up against the car. Dean would be able to get him either way, even with a wounded leg and exhaustion. The world around him blurs as his eyes fill with tears.

 

Dean has the keys in his hand now, Castiel is shaking. As Dean opens the door and turns to Castiel, Castiel says, “Dean, I’m so sorr-”

 

“Shut the fuck up.”

 

Dean pushes Castiel into the passenger side seat and slams the door shut, then he is walking around the car to driver side..gets in and starts the car. Fear makes Castiel sit straight in his seat. He knows that Dean’s punishment would have been bad if it just involved tools from the car, but if they had to drive somewhere….it is going to be far worse. 

 

“Wh-where are we going.”

 

“I said shut the fuck up.”

 

They are still pulling out of the parking spot, and the car is still going fairly slowly. This means Castiel can still jump out. His hand goes to the door. 

 

“If you open the goddamn fucking door, I will fucking end you.”

 

Castiel is shaking far harder now, and then his body does something that surprises Dean as much as it does himself. He doesn’t even recall doing it. All of a sudden, he is running towards the hospital, and the impala car door is wide open behind him. He stops running when he realizes that he really doesn’t want to go back into the hospital with the woman who never stops asking questions. So, he turns to run towards the road away from the hospital, and towards what he realized was a small forest.  _ Better than seeing that woman again. _ Castiel, of course, knows that since he is not going into the hospital, his chances of getting away from Dean are much slimmer, as Dean will refrain from doing anything if enough people are watching, and this cluster of trees looks pretty empty. The rain beats down on him from above, and keeps him from seeing the bump in the sidewalk. He loses his balance, but does not fall. However, when he gets into the tall grass near the trees, not slipping becomes a lot harder, especially with his body crashing from a three hour long adrenaline rush. He has no honest idea how he was still going, perhaps he is experiencing some kind of miracle. 

 

He finally slips and falls in the wet grass, and doesn't have to look up to know that Dean is standing over him. Large, angry hands grab him, and rip him up from his place on the ground.

 

“Where are you even trying to go?’

 

Dean is holding Castiel by the collar of his shirt, then without warning, he pulled his arm back and slugs Castiel in the face. Castiel’s face explodes in pain. When he starts to fall backwards towards the ground, Dean tugs him sharply back up before he could. Causing the infected, aching wounds on his shoulder to get pushed and pulled hard. The pain is so much, he can feel himself start to gag.

 

“Huh? Where are you FUCKING trying to go?”

 

He punches Castiel again, this time ripping him forward before he can fall, and knees him in the stomach. 

 

Dean watches Cas fall over, coughing, and groaning the breath knocked out of him. The image of Sam, pale and lifeless in the backseat of the impala, further fuels his anger, and he kicks Cas in the ribs. 

 

If he could breath, Castiel would have screamed. His already black and blue ribs are on fire from Dean’s unexpected kick. He is hunched over and gagging, the sound of the rain too loud for Castiel to hear himself cough, and dry heave.

 

“Stand up.”

 

Castiel fights the urge to roll into a ball in the grass, and just take whatever Dean’s rage had to offer from a safe, tight position on the ground. Dean doesn't wait for Castiel to actually follow his order, but rather, he grabs him by his shirt and pulls him up roughly. 

 

Shaking him hard, Dean growls, “Fuck you, Cas, you fucking idiot, fuck you!” Dean then raises his fist again, and Castiel can’t help but flinch, his hands coming up to pitifully defend his face long before Dean actually attempts to punch him. 

 

Dean huffs, disgusted and pissed, he hisses at Cas, “Fucking pussy.” then he punches Cas again, this time in his side. 

 

Cas cries out pathetically, and tries to pull himself out of Dean’s hold, his right hand shakes as it holds his side. Dean roughly jerked Cas back towards himself. Cas puts up his trembling left hand, right hand still at his aching side, and pleads with Dean pathetically, 

 

“Dean, please. I’m so sorry.”

 

“Shut the hell up. You don’t get to apologize. Shut up.” Dean starts dragging Cas by his collar back towards the Impala, like a badly behaved dog. 

 

Two steps in Cas crumbles to the ground. 

 

“Get up.”

 

Castiel’s shredded wrists scream as he puts them underneath him, and tries to push himself up. It hurt too much, and he really just doesn't’ have the strength to do anything anymore. 

 

“Get UP, I said!”

 

Castiel tries one more time, before collapsing, black spots pepper his vision as he teeters dangerously on the edge of consciousness. 

 

Dean glares angrily at Cas’s quivering form. He wants to hurt him again, especially now as he realizes how close Sam had been to death...how he still is. Dean gives Cas another punishing kick in the ribs, hoping that Cas isn't too far gone to feel it. The sound of a feeble whimper suggests he isn’t.

 

Dean knows he can’t carry Cas, not with his fucked up leg, and not all the way to the impala; he is just too exhausted. So he moves the impala closer to the small patch of woods. He then walks out to drag Castiel into the front seat. As he kneels by Cas’s shaking form, he starts to have a strange dark feeling spreading through him. A pit formed in his stomach as he grabs Castiel’s collar and turned him over on his side, and got a good look at Cas’s face. It is gaunt, and badly bruised. His soaked hair is coming down in his eyes, and is sticking to his face. It had gotten longer. It was so strange seeing Cas with his hair not the same perfect length, and bloody clothing, and a bruised, bleeding face, and shivering body. ‘ _ He’s definitely not an angel anymore.’  _ Dean moves his hand off of Cas’s collar, and puts it on his shoulder. He gives him a little shake, and a very deep, hidden feeling tells him he hopes that Castiel will wake up. ‘ _ It's because I don’t want to have to carry him. _ ’ But Castiel isn’t responding. 

 

So Dean puts one hand under Cas’s legs, and other behind his back and lifts. Once again, Dean is startled by how little Castiel weighs. He hadn’t noticed it as much when they were in the vamp nest, since he had been carrying an oxygen tank on his back, as well as Castiel. Now carrying just Castiel, Dean realized how little effort it takes...too little effort.  

 

He puts Castiel in the passenger seat of the Impala, and handcuffs him to the inside of the passenger door. He isn’t sure what exactly the cuffs are going to do, since Castiel clearly is in no shape to do any more running. Part of Dean hopes that Cas will have enough strength in him for the cuffs to come in handy, he quickly chases that thought away and turns to the issue at hand. They have no IDs.

 

Dean waits a few minutes before trying to wake Cas up again. This time he doesn’t stop until Cas is finally stirring, albeit quite weakly. Then he starts the impala and starts driving towards downtown. 

 

When Castiel finally opens his eyes again, they are in the car again, but this time, Dean had handcuffed Castiel to the handle on the inside of the Impala’s passenger-side door. The cuffs are very tight and dig into the wounds on his wrists. He hunches over so that the chain isn’t taut and pulling on his wounds. 

 

“We have to get rid of all the illegal weapons in the car. In case they search it. We also need driver’s licenses. We don’t have a fake Dustin Roger’s I.D. either, so we’re in deep shit.”

 

Castiel was too weak to talk, and only looked at Dean, his face asking, ‘What do you mean?’

 

“I came up with my alias on the spot. So, we don’t have an I.D. for it, and don't have  _ any  _ I.D.s for you.”

 

Dean pulls over next to a dumpster, gets out, and starts rifling through the Impala’s trunk. He takes a lot of time removing anything that a game hunter wouldn’t carry. He reluctantly puts everything in the dumpster, making sure that it is all covered with trash. The rest of their stuff could easily pass as regular hunting gear. Dean eases back onto the road and, after only a couple of minutes, pulls into the parking lot of a very,  _ very  _ run-down motel called “Hide-Away Inn”. Dean then leaves the Impala to pay for a room and is back out in the rain, limping towards Baby, in record time.

 

Once back in the car, Dean peels out again and starts driving back towards the hospital.

 

All the while Castiel is trying his best to stay conscious. 

 

“Alright, here’s the deal. I just checked into the hotel, and paid the clerk an ass load of money to write down that we got checked in here a week ago. I just looked up the time for hunting season, and we’re damn lucky because it started exactly two days ago in this area. So, the story is, you are Ryan Schmidt, my cousin who hunts with us every year. My name is Dustin Rogers, and Sam is my brother Jack Rogers. Got it? We went hunting, and we left all our stuff at the campsite. So that’s where our I.D.’s are.”

 

Cas stares blankly at Dean for a couple seconds.

 

“That is our cover story, Cas. We can’t just go in there and tell them we were hunting vampires, and one of them got Sam, because they would arrest us.”

 

Cas continues to stare.

 

“And that’s bad. We don’t want to get put in jail, or prison. Understand?”

 

Cas finally croaks; “Yes, Dean. You don’t want to be incarcerated, so you will lie to the strangers about what happened.” 

 

“Exactly. Just remember, your name is Ryan Schmidt, and you are our cousin. We went hunting, and until we know what kind of wound Sam has, we aren’t sure what happened. I looked at the wound on my leg, and it is a clean gunshot wound. So we can say that it was dark, we heard Sam-er-‘Jack’ cry out in the woods, so we ran towards him.” They pulled into the hospital’s regular parking, “We were running towards my brother and not being very careful, and a gun went off and it hit me in the leg. Got that? Pay attention to what I say to the nurses and the doctors, so you can corroborate what I say. If I say something happened, then it did. No questions, no doubts. Understand?” 

 

“Yes.”

 

“And Cas...If you try  _ anything _ ... I will skin you alive.”

 

Castiel looked over at Dean to see him staring intently at him, murder in his eyes. Rather than saying anything, Castiel nods quietly; uncontrollable tremors continued to run through his body intensifying the feelings of fear and helplessness that are choking him.

 

Dean unlocks the cuffs and starts half carrying Castiel towards the hospital. He collapses again on the way, and it's too late for Dean to walk back to the Impala and leave him there, since the nurses have spotted him through the windows of emergency entrance and are already gathering around him to take a look at Cas. Dean lifts him up, and starts carrying him in earnest again, hoping he will be able to spin a good lie as to why Cas is so fucked up.  

 

⥈ ⊕ ⥈ ⊕ ⥈ ⊕ ⥈ ⊕ ⥈ ⊕ ⥈ ⊕ ⥈

 

They took Cas away just as Dean got in through the door.

 

A couple minutes later, a nurse comes and takes Dean to a nearby room; she has an aid clean and dressed the wound on his leg; it only takes seven stitches, and one roll of gauze. 

 

The doctor who comes and takes a look at the wound before the aid started dressing it prescribes painkillers and antibiotics, since Dean is running a low fever.

 

⥈ ⊕ ⥈ ⊕ ⥈ ⊕ ⥈ ⊕ ⥈ ⊕ ⥈ ⊕ ⥈

 

Castiel can feel himself being moved around, there are bright lights moving overhead, there is a rolling sound, and ever couple sounds a squeaking sound, faded voices all around...confident...worried...angry… Now the sound of velcro being pulled apart. Something is being wrapped around his left arm. Now something is being wrapped around his index finger. A new beeping sound joins the cacophony of noise that surrounds him...it rings in his ears. Something pricks his right arm...Cas feels a rush of ice invading his veins...now the voices start to fade, and the lights give to darkness.

 

⥈ ⊕ ⥈ ⊕ ⥈ ⊕ ⥈ ⊕ ⥈ ⊕ ⥈ ⊕ ⥈

 

“Alright, Mr. Rogers, this is officer Timber, and Officer Elei. They need to ask you a few questions.”

 

“That’s fine we’ll take it from here, Jane.” a disgruntled police officer in his mid to late forties comes and stands in front of Dean, next to him appears an aggressive and angry-looking thirty-year-old officer. Jane smiles at them before turning on her heels and strutting out of the waiting room. 

 

“Alright, Mr…?”

 

“Rogers.”

 

“You serious?”

 

“Yeah, it’s Dustin Rogers.”

 

The police officer chuckled, saying, “Well, I’m gonna need to see your license.”

 

“Sorry, we-uh left it back at the campsite, sir.”

 

“Ok, then, I’m gonna need the campsite name, number, and I’m gonna need your coordinates if you have them.”

 

“Uh, yeah. It’s an hour away. I forgot the name, this is really my brother’s thing, so he’s the one with all the info. I real-”

 

“Are you saying that you don’t know what campsite you were staying at?” The younger police officer interjected, his voice angry, his eyes squinting at Dean suspiciously. 

 

“Yeah, that’s literally what I just said.” Dean glared back at the officer.

 

“Really. Tha-”

 

“Will. Calm down, take it down a notch, man. Dustin, I need you to tell me what happened, alright?”

 

Turning his attention back to the older officer, Dean started his string of lies, “Sure, so we came up early for the hunting season this year, you know, so we can start a camp early and get the lay of the land-”

 

“This year? Does this mean that you hunt every year?” Will’s voice was accusatory, and he was leaning forward into Dean’s space.’

 

“Uh, yes-”

 

“So how come you don’t remember the campsite you were staying at?”

 

“Well, we don’t usually come to this one-”

 

“So which one do you usually go to?”

 

Before Dean could reply, the older police officer interrupted, “Will, go take a walk or something, I’ll let you know how this went afterwards.” After Will sauntered away, grumbling to himself, the older police officer turned to Dean and added, “I am sorry about that, he’s going through a tough divorce right now. Why don’t you finish what you were saying?”

 

“Yeah, Yeah. So we were staying at the camp, and we chose a completely secluded spot. We were good for a while, until the hunting season officially started, you know settling in and what not” Dean leans back into the uncomfortable metal chair and crosses his arms, he makes the best lies when his body is laid back, “ Ryan-my cousin- said that he had seen some weird stuff, you know strange animal activity and what not. He’s a nature freak, and very superstitious, you know believes in omens and all that. He kept saying that we should leave, and I wish we had, but we didn't want to leave after my brother had already taken time off from work, and we put in the deposit for the tents. Then tonight, Ryan and I were hanging by the fire, when we heard my brother yell. He was out getting firewood. We ran out to find him, but he was so far out it took us nearly two hours. It had started raining, and we couldn’t see anything by the time we found him. We could hardly find the car and get back.”

 

“So, Ryan saw something a few days earlier?”

 

“I don’t know, he just said that the ‘animals are behaving strangely’, and the ‘weather is not optimal’.” Dean made quotation marks with his fingers, “We don’t really make family decisions based on Ryan's opinions. He’s kind of a weird guy, and not exactly the brightest bulb in the room. But we love him, so he always drag him out of his little den he calls a house, to come with us on family events. He usually starts feeling better after a while.”

 

The police officer looked thoroughly confused, but sympathetic and understanding, which is exactly what Dean was going for.

 

“Y-yes. Yes. Alright, so I need that address of the hotel you are staying at tonight, so that I can stop by tomorrow, and you can show me to where your campsite is. 

 

“We are staying at Hideaway-Inn, on Howell and twenty-third.”

 

“Here’s my card if you need anything or remember anything before then.”

 

“Alright, thanks officer….?”

 

“Just call me Trey.”

 

“Alright, thank you, Trey.”

 

“No problem, I am sorry about your brother. You have a good night now.”

 

He left the room before Dean could reply.

 

⥈ ⊕ ⥈ ⊕ ⥈ ⊕ ⥈ ⊕ ⥈ ⊕ ⥈ ⊕ ⥈

 

Dean sat in the hospital waiting room for another two hours. Pacing was painful for his leg, and sitting on the uncomfortable metal chairs was mind numbingly boring and left him alone with his terrifying thoughts. So he resigned himself to leaning on the far wall of the waiting room; he watched as doctors and nurses out in the hallway walk back and forth, talking and moving pieces of expensive equipment. Dean is sweating and in pain as the adrenaline in his body ebbed and the wound in his leg screamed at him. He refused to take medication, as he feared that he would miss something, or would lose control of the situation.

 

When Dean is on his way out to get a coffee, he bumps into a doctor, who has news of sam.

 

“Hello...Mr. Rogers, is it?”

 

“Yeah. That’s me.” Dean’s heart feels as if it would leap out of his chest. His mind race with worst case scenarios.

.

 

“Alright, I have good news, and I have bad news.”

 

“Bad news first, please.”

 

“Your brother is extremely ill. He is suffering from hemolytic uremic syndrome, and is at risk for acute necrotizing enteritis, along with a list of other symptoms. We have found a number of bacteria and viruses in his system which usually come as a result of ingesting uncooked meat or contaminated water. E. Coli, Salmonella, C. perfringens...some of these viruses and bacteria we have never actually seen before, only read about. At least, I haven’t yet in my career, and the strangest thing is that these viruses are all coming from his wound site, which is not supposed to happen. People don’t usually- or ever, really, get infected with these kinds of viruses except through ingestion.”

 

“Wait, wait, wait. What does he have again?” Dean’s heart is in his throat. 

 

“He has hemolytic uremic syndrome, it means his cells are releasing toxins into his body, and he is at very high risk for kidney failure. We have him on dialysis right now. He is also at risk for NE, which is when parts of his intestine start dying. We don’t think he will actually get it, but then again he wasn’t supposed to get HUS either, and he has that. The thing is, all these diseases are coming from his wounds, when that shouldn’t be possible, he shouldn’t have HUS, since that also starts out in the intestine, and he didn’t eat anything to make him ill. HUS never even starts this early into an E. Coli infection, it starts after many days or even weeks.”

 

“So...what’s going to happen? Can I see him?”

 

“Yes, you can see him. If we get his kidney straightened out, then there’s nothing left we can really do. We are hoping that since his wounds are the site of infection, the E. Coli and the C. perfringens will not catch or make home in his body.”

 

The doctor leads them down a long hallway, through a set of doors labeled ‘HEMOLYTIC ICU’, and into a curtained off area to the right. Sam is pale and sickly in a hospital bed. A bag full of what Dean assumes to be blood is hanging off of a metal rod, and is connected to Sam’s left arm by a tube. Another clear one is next to it, also connected to Sam through a tube. There are two thicker looking tubes on Sam’s left and right biceps; they are both connected to a machine of some sort, which was humming in the small room. A fogged up mask covered his mouth and nose.

 

“You said you had good news?” Dean said, his voice has a faint hopeful lilt to it. 

 

“Yes. the wounds were not very deep. They seem to have come from claws, so it seems that your brother was attacked by an animal. Since they are not deep, the cuts themselves are not posing any real danger for him, it's the infection that’s his biggest threat.”

 

“If they’re not very deep, why did he bleed so much?”

 

“Yes, I myself was asking that same question. It seems your brother is having some kind of hemophilic reaction to some of the pathogens that got into his wound. We have never seen anything like this. We plan on sending a search team up to the scene of attack to try and identify this animal.”

 

Dean touched Sam’s arm, his face hard to read. He turns to the doctor, voice deeper than usual, “When should he be waking up?”

 

“That’s the thing Mr. Rogers, we are actually not sure if he  _ will  _ be waking up, let alone anytime soon. He should be done with the dialysis and all the I.V.s soon, except the solution. If he doesn’t wake up, we will have to keep him hydrated using that; and then graduate him to an N.G. tube if the need arises.”

 

Dean swallows, his hand tightens on the railing of the hospital bed making his knuckles turn white to match his colorless face. 

 

“Thanks, Doc. do you mind if I stay here.”

 

“Um, no. We usually don’t let people into the ICU this late at night, but since you came in so late already, I don’t think it will be a problem as long as you stay quiet.”

 

“Will do.”

 

Dean pulls a chair up to the bed and sits down, his eyes never leaving Sam. He slips his finger between Sam’s lifeless ones. 

⥈ ⊕ ⥈ ⊕ ⥈ ⊕ ⥈ ⊕ ⥈ ⊕ ⥈ ⊕ ⥈

  
  
  
  
  



	2. Devil's Lake: Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now being treated for their various injuries, Castiel, Sam and Dean are all in Devil's Lake Medical Center. Sam gets worse. Castiel is sedated. Dean is wandering the corridors and watching over Sam. Things get tense when Dean goes to check on Cas and comes back to find police officers waiting for him.

The sound of loud commands and running feet jolts Castiel awake. Closer he can hear a loud beeping from a machine near his bed, it’s too loud and echoes painfully in his head. More footsteps. He opens his eyes to see the sterile, bland blue and green scrubs of various hospital staff running by from between the thin space within the seam of the curtains that gave his small bed and table privacy. They are all hurrying off towards the loud, panicked screaming of a machine somewhere down the hall. The blue legs of some doctor’s scrubs slow to a stop in front of Castiel’s curtain, only to hurry on a couple moments later.

 

Castiel’s throat feels raw, and parched. He  tries to sit up, but that makes his head swim dangerously and his stomach clench-he feels that he is going to vomit. He quickly lay back down, hoping that the feeling would go away without incident.

 

Castiel took in the cramped space. He could see a screen near his shoulder facing away from him. It was the source of the loud beeping. Next to it stood a tall, thin, metal pole, with some clear fluid-filled pouches hanging off of it; it was connected by tubes to his arm. He can feel cold fluid pushing into his bandaged right arm. His left arm was encased in some hard blue cocoon, with his index finger pinched in a little plastic pin with a red light shining inside. Curious, castiel pulled the pin off, and the machine behind his bed started screaming. He jumped, startled, jostling the blue cocoon on his arm, causing sharp pain to shoot up his arm. He quickly put the pin back on his finger, and focused on untensing his muscles. The machine stopped beeping after he replaced the pin, but the beeping on it was still coming in quickly. The flashing light emitting from the screen was reflecting on the curtains in front of his bed, it was alarming in the darkness of the room. He could feel his heart slamming against his rib cage; he put his right hand against his chest. He could feel the hard beats of his heart, quick and forceful. It took a couple of seconds for him to realize that the beeping of the machine matched the beating of his heart. He could feel the beats nearly rocking his body from their force. Castiel lay with one hand on his chest in awe of the powerful muscle inside his chest that shook his entire person. During his time as an angle, it was easy for him to control his heart rate...then later on as a human, there was too much going on for him to really explore this feeling.

 

Now alone in the room he couldn’t help but smile a little at the sensation, especially as his heart slowed back down. There was something about this knowledge...the knowledge that his heart was beating, and his blood was moving all to keep him alive that brought a small bubble of joy to his chest. As much as it anguished him, the idea that he was human...a /real/ human...it filled him with a strange anticipation for the future. While humans were weak, infinitesimal, and powerless, they were also the very thing he was created to love and serve. After millennia of watching the fascinating creatures flourish and thrive, Castiel felt a tad bit excited to live his own ‘life’ and have his own little story.

 

The moment quickly passed and the pain replaced it. His arm was getting cold, so he started to put it back under the blanket. Before it makes it there, Castiel instead reaches out to touch the clear fluid-filled plastic bag hanging by his bed instead. As much as he fought his curiosity, he was grateful for it, since it distracted him from the slowly intensifying pain in his back and hands. The bag was cold, and it felt wet under his fingers, although on closer inspection, his fingers had come away dry. He flinches when a part of his forearm touches the metal bed rail. It's colder, but for one second he feels it is red hot. Paul had taught him what it feels like to be burned. He shivers, and puts his arm back under the blanket, movements slow, and painful. The warmth underneath is pleasant, and comforting.

 

The warmth was becoming less pleasant and more searing as the pain continued to worsen. Castiel’s hands and back are screaming at him, each cut and stab is throbbing, hot and sharp. The pang in his right arm has become a full on really starting to ache painfully. Being human is still very new to Castiel, and with no one to show him how to do anything...well, he was just going to have to wait for his body to try and fix itself on its own. He can’t understand what his body is trying to communicate to him through this nausea and splitting headache. The language of sensations and various types of pain is still foreign to him.

 

Dean only ever taught him how to use the restroom. That itself was what made Castiel so afraid to ask for any more help when it came to this kind of stuff. Dean is brutal in his teaching methods, it was not enough that he would make castiel feel shame and humiliation every time he made a mistake, but he would also resort to corporal punishment.

 

That was what started the more physical side of his relationship with Dean and Sam. Originally, it had been Dean alone who corrected Castiel with physical punishment, but it only took a few of Castiel’s accidental, and usually life threatening mistakes for Sam to join in the abuse. As a human Castiel is not only a ‘parasitic’ liability, but also as a security threat capable at any time of putting their lives in danger with his stupidity and naivety.

 

Castiel only learned what hunger was after Dean had stopped giving him food as a punishment for something or other. Even then it took about a whole day for him to realize the reason he was having sharp pangs of insistent pain in his upper abdominal region was because Dean had stopped regularly giving him food and reminding him to eat. Not knowing what hunger is made him feel extremely ignorant and anxious. If he doesn’t understand the meaning of something so simple as hunger, then how could he possibly deal with things like driving a car or even getting money for food. Dean is right, Castiel truly is as stupid and as helpless as a baby...at least a baby knew what hunger was.

 

The headache is getting worse. Castiel tries opening his eyes, one eye at a time. But the lights are just too bright, they make his head hurt more, now there is a sharp throbbing behind his eyes. Well, he waited out torture and pain for-he doesn’t even know how long-surely he can wait for just a few more hours, then maybe the pain will go away on its own.

 

The sound of the metal rings on the curtain as they are pulled back grates his ears, and he turns to face the intruder. A woman wearing bright pink scrubs and a look of sympathy walked into his makeshift room.

 

As she approached the bed, Castiel shrunk back a bit, still struggling to muster the energy to sit up.

 

“Good morning, Mr. Shmidt. I am Julia, I’m going to be your nurse.”

 

Castiel squinted up at her, and attempted to keep the panic at bay. ‘ _Why is she here? Why can’t people just leave me alone?’_

 

The loud beeping is coming more quickly now.

 

Castiel forced himself to inhale slowly, fighting with every bit of strength the urge to breath hard and fast.

 

The woman is looking at the monitor, and then at him..and back. She has her hands in the air in a placating position, lips moving. But all Castiel can hear is the loud ringing of beeps as they continue to come at faster intervals. She disappears behind the curtain, and returns with something in her hand. Cold rushes into his arm from the tubes, and then everything fades.

 

⥈⊕⥈⊕⥈⊕⥈⊕⥈⊕⥈⊕⥈

Dean blinked his bloodshot eyes. He feels so exhausted, yet so tense. Every muscle taught, and ready to pounce. Try as he might, he can’t get comfortable in the dingy metal hospital chair. He wishes Sam would just wake up, so they can finally leave this shithole.

 

Yet slumber continues to claim him.

 

Dean’s hand is still clutching Sam’s, perhaps a little too tightly, since Sam’s fingers have lost some color. Or maybe he's getting worse.

 

Dean blinked hard, and shook his head, chasing the thought away. But it persisted. If Sam dies again..well...what is Dean going to do. He can’t-What CAN he do-he-

 

Dean suddenly stood from the chair, knocking it back. He catches it just as it is about to hit the floor and puts it back in its spot. Pacing the room as quietly as he can, he tries to keep his thoughts clean and optimistic. But with his leg screaming at him, and his head pounding painfully his thoughts just keep straying back to darkness, his path becomes more frenzied in the small curtained off space. He’s a caged animal...but his cage is apparently not soundproof.

 

The nurse who occasionally checks in on Sam comes in just as he is adjusting the chair for the fifteenth time. Janet is her name. She gives him a bitchy glare.

 

“Sir, you are disturbing the patients.”

 

“Sorry.” Dean replied curtly, as he abruptly passed her going into the hallway...it was really time for a cup of coffee. It's not like they can lock him out of Sam’s room, you can’t lock a curtain.

 

In the cafeteria the smell of fresh breakfast food wafted to him, it only made him more nauseous.

 

A pretty red haired woman stood at the counter in front of him, waiting patiently for an order.

 

“Large coffee, black, please. Thanks.”

 

He tosses a five dollar bill on the counter and steps back waiting for her to bring up his order.

 

“Careful, it's hot.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

The nurse from the night before bumps into him on his way out of the cafeteria, all smiles she pipes cheerfully, “Good morning, Mr. Rogers!” Taking in his appearance, she added in a dismayed voice, “You haven't left since last night?”

 

“Yeah, well I can’t leave my brother on his own.”

 

“Shame on you! You aren’t doing you brother any favors by staying here and getting yourself sick!”

 

“Yes, I will be going home soon,” Dean lied, hoping she would just leave him alone, he needs to get back to the room, his leg is becoming unbearable.

 

“Alright, you really ought to, you look like you could really use some rest.”

 

“Yeah, thanks-uh” quick glance at her name tag, “Nancy. I will be sure to do that.”

 

Once again, unceremoniously walked past her, without warning really. She quickly moved out of his way.

 

When he finally made it back to Sam’s room, he finds it full of people. Two doctors, four carts of equipment,  and about six nurses. _‘Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.’_

 

“Mr. Rogers.”

 

“Yes?”

 

“We are going to try and wake your brother now.”

 

“What? I thought you said you couldn’t wake him.”

 

“Yes, well you see, yesterday his symptoms were more leaning towards trauma induced sleep, he really wasn’t in a coma. Unfortunately, a thorough exam now reveals that he is approaching a comatose state, and his body is in distress. We need to inject him with adrenaline and epinephrine in an attempt to force him awake.”

 

“Why didn’t you just do this yesterday? Why did you have to wait until he-”

 

“Mr. Rogers, please calm down. Excess adrenaline can cause a variety of diverse reactions and can lead to dangerous side-effects, additionally, sometimes it doesn’t work and has the reverse effect. It also runs a very high risk of heart attack in blood-loss trauma victims such as your brother. So we had to be sure there was no other option. Now, we are going to wait until his heart rate maintains a steady beat for longer than thirty seconds then we will inject him. Is that clear?”

 

“Yeah, alright.”

 

“Perfect, please step back out into the hallway.”

 

Dean reluctantly took a step back. Janet stepped out and waved at him to back up more; she kept waving until he was two rooms away. She then brusquely pulled the curtain back in place.

 

Five minutes later, he hears the doctors and nurses moving around in the room, he can hear the doctor from before giving orders. Two minutes pass, then the heart monitor starts screaming.

 

“Fuck!” Dean gasps.

 

A Nurse comes running out, she pulls in a cart from the hallway, she leaves the curtain pulled back. Dean takes the opportunity to look into the room. Sam’s hospital gown has been cut away, and a nurse is performing CPR on him. Another nurse adjusting the pads on his torso, while the doctor is rubbing together the pads of the heart defibrillator.

 

“Fuck! Oh, fuck. Please. Please no.” Dean whispers, panic quickly taking over.

 

“CLEAR!”

 

Sam’s body convulses as the volts of electricity pass through his flaccid limbs. Thirty seconds pass, each a small eternity.

 

“CLEAR!”

 

Dean hands clutch at the curtains as he watches Sam get jerked around by the nurses.

 

“CLEAR!”

 

The heart monitor finally stops screaming. The staff moves quickly, they start taking out tubes from sam’s arms and adding new ones. Then the doctor puts this hook shaped device down Sam’s throat, just as a nurse starts shoving a tube down his throat Sam’s eyes fly open. Three nurses jump forwards to hold him down, when he gags against the intubation hook and tube. As the doctor commands Sam to relax, Sam continues to fight against the nurses holding him down...now winning.

 

The man who was holding his right arm down flew across the room with a shove from Sam’s hand. Another  nurse was tossed back hard enough to fall on her ass. The doctor screamed for a tranquilizer. When sam got his hand on the third nurse’s shoulder Dean quickly jumped into the room.

 

One firm hand on Sam’s shoulder the other on his chest, Dean firmly pushes him down, “Sam! Sam, stop struggling, man! I’m right here, alright, everything’s gonna’ be alright. OK?” Sam stared at Dean with wide eyes, his body stopped struggling, instead it tensed up completely. Dean could see fear and pain in Sam’s eyes; Sam reaches his hand up and grabs Deans wrist tight enough to bruise. His body straightened out even more, becoming as stiff as a board, as he squeezed his eyes shut, and allowed the doctor to remove the intubation instruments from his mouth and throat, after which Sam’s entire body went lax.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                

 

The expression on the staff and the doctor’s face was completely incredulous as they stared between Dean and Sam.

 

“What?”

 

“At least now we know he still has his strength, and the infections have not affect any of his reflexes...In my fifteen years as a doctor, I have never had a patient who lay still and stayed awake while I removed a tube and hook from their throat. Your brother has quite the pain tolerance, Mr. Rogers.”

 

Sam stared at the doctor with bleary eyes, and finally let go of Dean’s wrist his arm slumping down on to his chest. It is a pitiful sight.

 

“Um..thanks?” Dean replied, unsure if it was a complement; the reality is that both he and Sam regularly wake up to monster’s doing weird things to their bodies, and then end up having to fight them off while laying supine, so what Sam just did was not really impressive to Dean..it was worrying. He saw just how sick Sam was in his sluggish struggles, and his uncoordinated limbs.

 

The doctor approaches Sam, flipping through his chart. At his movement, the nurses all jump to attention, each one doing something or other, then scribbling down on their own clipboards. Dean started stepping backwards to give the nurses room to work, Sam’s right hand grabbed at the hem of his shirt feebly, a silent request for him to stay.

 

So he stayed.

⥈⊕⥈⊕⥈⊕⥈⊕⥈⊕⥈⊕⥈

Fifteen minutes later, an adrenaline-free Sam is covered in sweat and shaking in pain, and Dean’s leg is begging him to sit down, he was starting to regret not taking the doctors recommendation for some kind of cane or walking aid.

 

Seventeen minutes after Sam’s heart stopped, the doctor finished explaining why they couldn’t give sam morphine or any other opiate, and how they were not going to give him anything stronger than children’s Tylenol for the next thirty minutes.

 

The half-hour felt like days as Sam writhed in excruciating pain.  

⥈⊕⥈⊕⥈⊕⥈⊕⥈⊕⥈⊕⥈

 

Everything hurts. Everything. But the gashes in his back where his flesh is torn apart is where he feels the most pain. Its too much to bare, too much for him to even lose consciousness again. He can’t relax and nothing can distract him from his wounds. Every muscle taut, he is unable to unclench.

 

Dean is there, his face concerned and sincere. Sam is still in pain, but at least he knows he is not alone. Dean is here.

 

⥈⊕⥈⊕⥈⊕⥈⊕⥈⊕⥈⊕⥈

 

Morphine Sam. Is great. Dean tried not to laugh as Sam tries to explain to the nurse why he shouldn’t have to be pricked by another needle, motioning at the IV needles sluggishly.

 

“I already have…” Sam stops to count the three needles already in his arms, it takes him fifteen or so seconds, and by then the nurse has already given him the shot.

 

“Three..yeah. Three needles. So that’s already way too much.”

 

Janet has the second pink colored syringe in her hand. Her grumpy face has the faintest smile as she pulls Sam’s arm out.

 

“Waitwaitwait!” Sam is squirming away from her needle clad hand.

 

She quickly pricks him, and starts gathering her things to leave.

 

“Oh that wasn’t so bad.” he murmured belatedly, rubbing the pinprick with a large hand.

 

“Yeah.” Janet says, her flat voice hinting amusement; without looking at either of them, she quickly gathered all her equipment. “Lunch will be up soon.”

 

The entire scene reminds Dean of a younger Sam being vaccinated, always arguing with the nurse about the number of shots he had to get and hiding behind the examination table. Dad chasing him about, and then finally turning to Dean for help. It was always Dean who got Sam to sit still through the whole ordeal, holding his hand and telling him corny jokes to distract him.

 

“What do you think is for lunch?”

 

“Not marshmallow nachos.”

 

When Sam laughs, it sounds unfocused, as if he finds everything mildly amusing.

 

“So how's..uh..” Sam motions wildly with his hand for a moment, before giving Dean an exaggerated meaningful _look_ before putting his hand below his head as if showing the height of someone who is significantly shorter than him.

 

“Oh, uh yeah. I don’t know. They took him in-”

 

“Him? Him who? I’m talking about,” Sam stops for a moment to look around dramatically, he then continues in a very loud whisper, “I am talking about Jen.”

 

Dean let his eyes flicker down to the area where the curtains ended and the ground began. He checked for any eavesdroppers before turning back to Sam. “She didn’t make it. At least I think she didn’t make it.”

 

Sam looked dejected as he lay back against the raised hospital bed. “Oh.”

 

The conversation had reminded Dean of Cas’s situation. He was gonna have to go see what room he was in, and give him some thinly-veiled threats about what would happen to him if he tried talking to the police officers about what really happened and who they are.

 

“Hey, Sammy, I’m gonna head up to see Cas now, alright? Try not to talk to any of the staff, you are way too high, you might say something not quite right. You know?”

 

Sam made a very serious face, like what Dean was saying was gospel. “Yeah, I will-I will pretend I am sleeping.” Sam then proceed to squeeze his eyes shut, and lay his head down...then immediately fell asleep...no pretending.

 

Dean couldn’t help but chuckle, he kind of wished he got that on tape. They had moved Sam up to a ‘high risk ward’, since they need his bed in the ICU, and sam wasn’t on the brink of death anymore, or so they hoped. The doctor made it very clear that Dean shouldn’t get his hopes up, that sam was bound to take a turn for the worse. It was just the way the viruses he was infected with worked. The viruses would give his body a short rest period as they multiplied, right before the shit really hit the fan.

 

Dean’s light mood dissipated as he remembered Sam’s prognosis.

 

He decided he would need some coffee before going to see Cas, but then changed his mind as he realized drinking something around the ex-angel might make Dean less intimidating. Dean really needs to be as intimidating as possible, for Cas, who almost seemed completely fearless. Dean needs Cas to fear him...like two nights ago when they first got to the hospital.

 

Before that it always seemed that Cas would take the beating, starving, binding, whatever Dean had to offer, and be completely unaffected by it. He would follow Dean’s orders, but not out of fear, rather because he couldn’t think of a reason not to. At least that’s how it seemed.

 

Cas always keeps a straight face, high head, and clear eyes, not matter what Dean or anyone else  says to degrade him. In order for this all to work Dean needs Cas to either die or fall in line with every single thing Dean says. Dean is not about to risk having his brother die in prison, or having to leave him all on his own here in the hospital. So that leaves getting Castiel in line. He needs to make Cas think about what Dean would want before doing anything.

 

Dean’s already decided that if this doesn’t work out, he will have to put Cas down. He cannot risk getting into this situation again.

 

Yesterday, a nurse stopped by Sam’s room to tell him that Cas was moved to the public ‘low-risk’ wards, they ran out of beds in the ICU, and rooms in the ‘high-risk’ wards. Some guy in a pressed shirt and pants came in and explained that if Dean wanted to keep Cas at this hospital he would have to sign a bunch of papers saying he wouldn’t sue, and that he understands that Cas’s condition could worsen since they were not equipped to deal with him at the moment.

 

It was very boring and took too damn long to get everything signed and on its way.

 

Dean walked up to the curtain labeled 345, glanced at the chart pinned to the faded, stiff, green, and blue patterned fabric that allowed Cas any privacy. Sure enough, under ‘patient last name’ it listed a hastily scribbled ‘Shmidt’.

 

Dean unceremoniously pushed back the scratchy curtain, and stepped inside.

 

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The nurses kept Castiel highly medicated, so,  he has been mostly asleep since his first, very disastrous attempt at interacting with anyone besides Paul under normal circumstances. He has no idea how many days have passed. It simultaneously feels both like forever and a few  seconds.

 

It feels like just this morning(last night?) he was in Paul's basement from hell, and at the same time it feels like he has been asleep for centuries. Well not really...sleeping for centuries has a vastly different effect on the soul...however it is a nice hyperbole for the kind of dark slumber he has been experiencing.

 

This morning, he kept his eyes shut when the nurse came in, but couldn’t help but open them anyway when she was getting too close to his bed. By then he was already breathing too hard, and too fast. But there was something different about her, than the other nurse. Rather than immediately react to his panic, and screaming heart monitor, she paid him no mind. She walked about the small space checking the chart, putting a bunch of different pills in a plastic cup and changing his IV all without looking at him directly.

 

Her behaviour not only made him feel safer and less attacked, but it also distracted him from his panic. He was curious as to what she was doing, and how her hands flew about the hospital equipment so skillfully and knowingly. She knew what she was doing, and he found himself envying her knowledge.

 

After she was done with all the hands off stuff, she walked over to his side, and put her hands out on the small table by his bed. She faced the curtain in front of him and gave him her back and side.

 

“Mr. Shmidt. I am PA Jackie. I specialize in mental disorders and trauma. I understand that you are suffering from some form of PTSD, but we can’t keep you under anymore, it's dangerous and its not good for your health. So, you are going to have to be awake now alright? I will always explain everything clearly to you before I do it; you can stop me at anytime, even if you can’t talk, just wave with your hand. That being said, Mr. Shmidt, I really need you to work with me here. I need you to power through, even if you are scared or uncomfortable. If you can think of anything that can make this easier for you, please tell me, I will try my best to provide whatever accommodations you ask for. I am also a licensed psychiatrist. Please, feel free to share anything that is on your mind, alright?”

 

Castiel cleared his throat before responding with a soft, “Yes.”

 

“Perfect. Right now, I need to change your bandages. That means I have to touch you, and stand behind. I will also have to look at you. Is there anything I can do to make this an easier experience for you?”

 

Castiel thought for a moment, before saying: “Would it be alright if you described what you were doing as you do it. I think that would really help.”

 

He also asked her to tell him how she learned to use the hospital equipment so well. She changed all his dressing while she described nursing school and PA school to him. He was able to push down his fear for a little while and focus on her objective ‘no-nonsense’ voice. Her hands were so quick, and clinical, the touches were far less frietning than he had expected them to be.

 

Soon PA Jackie was done, and gone, and he was sitting alone in the room staring at the dusty ceiling above his bed. Jackie had shown him how to make the back of his bed go up and down. While sitting up was nice at the time, he kind of wanted to just lay back down and fall asleep.

 

He didn’t though..he just couldn’t trust himself not to press the wrong button and fuck everything up. Like always.

 

They brought up breakfast for him. He couldn’t bring himself to eat any of it though. He was starving...but he was kind of afraid to take from it. What if it's not meant for him? What if this is some kind of trick? Some kind of test? He just couldn’t...  

 

After hours passed and he still hadn’t eaten it, they took it away and brought in lunch. Unlike breakfast, lunch smelled absolutely heavenly. Maybe he could sneak a piece or something. Instead he just lay there and stared at it. It was some kind of stringy pasta with chunks of meat in it.

 

Perhaps he could consume it via photosynthesis...if he stared at it enough. He laughed a little to himself. It’s funny because he’s not a plant. It's a joke. He made a joke! He couldn’t help but feel proud of himself for it. _He made a funny._ Oh! Another joke! This one is humorous because the word ‘funny’ is an adjective, not a noun.

 

‘ _So that’s what humor feels like._ ’ Castiel thinks to himself, _‘No wonder humans value it so much. This ‘funny’ feeling is good.’_ It's not that he has never experienced humor before, its just that he never truly felt its effect this quickly and with so much ease. Usually if the joke wasn’t as clear as day, and/or did not make literal sense, then he just couldn’t actually react to it let alone experience this positive feeling, he just got from his plant joke.

 

He stares at the food for a while longer, when he hears footsteps stop in front of his curtain. He thinks it maybe jackie or some other nurse. But the cold fear in his gut tells him it is no nurse or doctor. He tries not to panic. Castiel knows that his body freaks out for no reason, and is not reliable in its warnings these days.

 

He kind of sits up a little, anticipating Jackie’s soft pink and purple scrubs, or maybe that other nurse’s light green ones. When jackie was here before, she had helped him realize that staring at people’s clothes instead of their faces or eyes helped a lot. Especially when they had brought the food up. Both times it was men who brought the food up.

 

But the person who pushed past the curtain didn’t have any scrubs on. They wore a dark gray shirt and greenish jacket. While the shirt was relatively clean, the jacket had large dark stains on it. Castiel quickly averted his eyes, and stared at his blankets...he knew what those kinds stains were from.

 

“Who? Who’s there?” Even as he asks he already knows who it is. But he just can’t think straight, and is kind of terrified that he is right...or even worse...what if he's wrong, and it's NOT who he thinks it is.

 

“Who else, you idiot?” Castiel is simultaneously relieved and horrified by the familiar voice.

 

He lets out a relieved breath, and follows it up with a shaken gasp.

 

“So,” Dean’s lowers his volume, and gets close enough that Castiel can feel the warmth coming off his chest. He hadn’t realized he was so cold. “What have you told them?”

 

Castiel rubs his bandaged hands together nervously, they hurt when he moves them...really his whole body hurt, but the pain is distant, and muffled by the painkillers the nurses had given him.

 

“Nothing.”

 

“Did they ask you anything?” Dean’s hands find the railing of the bed, and grip it hard. His knuckles are turning white, and he’s growing impatient.

 

Castiel looks back at his own knuckles, and tries to focus on what Dean said.

 

“No. I...haven’t been very approachable to them as of late.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

This time when Castiel takes a moment to think, Dean grabs his jaw and pulls his head up so that he isn’t looking at his hands anymore, but, at Dean’s face. Immediately the beeping that Castiel has become accustomed to sped up, as his heart began to race.

 

“Don’t lie. Don’t think! Just tell me what happened exactly.” Those were the wrong words to say, for all castiel could do was panic.

 

“I’m not lying. Please, I didn’t lie at all! I swear! I didn’t lie!” Castiel was almost shouting, if his voice wasn’t so weak they would have heard him down the hall.

 

Dean hisses over his pleas, “Shh! Shhhhh! Jesus! Shut up!”

 

“Please, believe me! I wouldn’t lie to you, I’m not a liar!” Dean put his hand on Castiel’s mouth, making Castiel flinch hard; really he was much gentler than he meant to be.

 

Castiel’s voice continues, muffled by Dean’s hand, his eyes looking up at Dean pleadingly, desperate for Dean to believe him.

 

“Alright, I believe you. You need to calm the fuck down, people on the third floor can probably hear you. Jesus.” Dean waited for a moment watching Cas try to calm himself down. Dean moved his hands now that Cas finally stopped talking.

 

Sweat beads at Castiel’s brow as he tries to get his panic under control. His breath keeps coming in short gasps, and his body feels so hot and so cold at the same time.

 

“Alright..you good?”

 

Castiel nods shakely in response.

 

“So just-just tell me how come they haven't interviewed you yet. Er-how you are ‘not so approachable’ or whatever.”

 

“I...I guess you can say I kept ‘freaking out’ whenever anyone came in here. So, they kept me in a drug-induced sleep to work on my wounds and make me rest. Today is the first day I’ve actually been conscious at all since we got here. The nurse woke me up because its not good for me to drugged and asleep all the time, so they are all leaving me alone, that way no one is forced to tranquilize me or what...whatever that woman said.”

 

Dean turns quickly to peak under the curtain and make sure no one is listening in. He then leans in and whisperes to Cas: “Well that’s good. Let’s keep it that way. You are gonna keep doing what you're doing. If you see a police officer: freak out. Cas. Cas, look at me.”

 

Castiel opens his eyes and turns to Dean.

 

“You are going to keep this up. Notice I am not asking you, I am telling you. If you don’t keep this panicked-pussy bulshit up, then you are going to regret it.”

 

“I don’t know if I can fake it-”

 

“That’s not my problem. That’s your problem. When you see a police officer or any law enforcement you need to freak out..think of what actually makes you freak out if you have to. Just make sure you don’t say anything to anyone. No therapists or mental psycho-whatever either. No one. Don’t share anything of what happened with anyone. If they somehow ask you and you have to answer- DON’T ANSWER, there’s always a way out! Got it?”

 

“Yeah, I’ll-I’ll try my best.”

 

“Alright. Good.”

 

Castiel took in Deans’ appearance. His dark jacket and shirt accentuated his pallor, making him appear almost ghostly. Sunken eyes, and shaky fingers indicated that Dean was on the verge of collapse. His scowl did nothing to hide the fact that he was only standing by the grace of god and coffee.

 

“Dean you need to rest. You look very tired. Please tell me you have gone home since we got here.”

 

Dean scoffed; “Don’t pretend you give a shit, alright? Because if you did we wouldn’t even be in this mess.”

 

Castiel tentatively reached out to touch Dean’s arm, but a glare from him had Castiel reaching out for the lunch instead. He pulls the tray towards Dean.

 

“Very well. Why don’t you eat this?”

 

“Isn’t that yours?”

 

“I already had a huge breakfast just before.” Castiel lied. The truth is Dean clearly needed it more than he did. Besides, he was far too afraid to take any of it for himself.  

 

Dean stared at it for a moment before reaching out and grabbing the roll of bread. Instead of taking a bite, he grabbed Castiel’s bandaged hand and placed the roll in it. He then squeezed Castiel’s wrist to really get the message through.

 

“You eat. Don’t forget what I said. Don’t pass up the food or meds that they give you.” Leaning in, he adds, “We’ll be out of here soon, so you better start feeling better. You are either leaving here with us or in a body bag.”

 

With that, he turned on his heel and left the room.

 

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On his way back to Sammy’s room, Dean heads to the Cafeteria and grabs a coffee. He tries not to dwell on how his meeting with Cas went, rather he would prefer to just move on to more pressing matters. He needs to plan a way out of this hospital and out of this whole mess.

 

The coffee is great this time, but he is starting to feel like he is walking on a giant bubble, like he may float away at any moment. He hasn’t eaten in _days_. He has slept a total of five hours since they reached the hospital.

 

Dean cannot eat when his brother is fighting for his life...that's what monsters, and bad brothers do. He also can’t sleep. When your family is suffering, you gotta suffer too. It’s only right.

 

Or not...the walls are starting to shimmer and shake at the edge of his vision.

 

When he is finally back at Sam’s room, he finds several doctors and some plain clothed cops waiting for him outside.

 

One of the doctors says sternly, “Mr. Rogers, we have a few questions for you.”

 

He put the coffee down on the table before he could spill it. _‘Don’t panic.’_

 

“Sure, is S-Jack going to be ok?”

 

“We are still trying to figure that out, he is mostly in the same condition as yesterday. We are actually here about your cousin Ryan.”

 

“Yeah, alright what would you like to know.”

 

“How exactly did he obtain his wounds?”

 

“Well like I said before-”

 

“See I don’t think you understand, Mr. Rogers, what you said before: that the three of you were at a campsite nearby and that your cousin reported some strange activity before your brother was attacked does not explain Ryan’s condition. His body shows weeks if not months old trauma and abuse. There is evidence that he was _tortured_ ,” the Doctor spat out the word like he was revealing some horrible atrocity, “his fingers and his toes are mostly fractured and in various stages of healing. His back is covered with welts and lacerations, and his chest is covered with bruises. The trauma physician on staff has assessed Mr. Schmidt’s condition and has written a full report on his injuries. This report has been turned into the police alongside a neurological assessment from our hospital’s psychiatrist.”

 

_What the fuck? That lying son of a bitch! Cas said they weren’t able to get anything from him...unapproachable my ass._

 

The doctor continued, tone turning more and more accusing with each word, “As you can see, it is very important that you not only cooperate with the hospital’s staff so that we can better care for your cousin, but also with the police so that they can _apprehend_ the individual or individuals responsible for this.”

 

“Thank you, Dr. Barnes. We can take it from here.” A police officer stepped forward. Dean wasn’t sure why the doctors were even here if he was just going to be handing him over to the police. There was no reason that the police couldn’t explain all of this to him.

 

“Like I said earlier Officer Harrison, it is important that I hear what really happened to the patient so that-”

 

“I understand that, we will be sending you a full report with all of the information necessary.”

 

Dean smirked as the probable very nice doctor walked away reluctantly followed by the rest of the doctors. The police officer asked that he make himself comfortable as they would be talking for quite a while.

 

“I don’t think so, Officer, I think that you will not be surprised by what I have to say. Or maybe you will, its kind of weird. But its not a long story.” Dean sat down anyway, his leg was too painful to stand on.

 

He then opened his sitting position, let his shoulders down and back, stretched out his legs, and grabbed his coffee cup hoping it would all make him seem less culpable. Sam was still knocked out. Which meant they didn’t grill him yet. Good. Now he just had to worry about that neurological assessment.

 

“Look. I am disappointed to hear about Ryan’s condition. But I am not surprised...he uh, he has this friend. Why am I making this _a thing_ , I’m just going to be frank with you. He has a boyfriend. A boyfriend who is perhaps a bit on the rough side. This isn’t the first time he has a relationship with an abusive man. I remember once he was with this guy...Zach or whatever, he used to straight up burn holes into his body whenever he was...not complying? Yeah, not complying with their house rules. I am going to be honest...I don’t much approve of this man on man relationship that’s why I wasn’t really ready to start shouting from the rooftops what exactly happened to him.. I’m a bible guy myself. But me and my cousin go way, way back. So I kind of...I guess I kind of pretend it isn’t happening. I prefer it that way.” Dean was relying on the men’s likely homophobia to shut this whole thing down right quick.

 

North Dakota was not known for its friendliness to the LGBT community.

 

“I am quite upset that he is in so much pain...I just, I guess I didn’t know what to do about it. His mother always told me that I ought to look out for him, she died when he was pretty young so I- Jack and I are all he has. He’s kind of all we have too.” It was hard to muster up some tears, but Dean at least got his eyes to go a bit misty. Thinking about Sam’s condition helped.

 

“Well. Thank you for your time, Mr. Roger.” The officers were now pointedly avoiding Dean’s eyes.  “If we have anymore questions-”

 

“Feel free to stop by and ask, I’ll be here until Sam’s out of here, and then after that I’ll be in the closest hotel in town.”

 

“Thank you.” They shook his hand and walked out.

 

Dean stood up and closed the curtain behind them.

 

“Wow what a great story, ever think about becoming a writer?”

 

Dean jumped at the sound of Sam’s voice. Apparently he has gotten better at pretending to be asleep than when he was younger.

 

“Oh shut up.”

 

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 Thank you! Next update will be coming soon hopefully. It will feature our boys getting out of the hospital and Dean getting into a physical conflict with Castiel. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment your LEAST favorite parts and/or MOST favorite parts. It would really help me improve my writing.

**Author's Note:**

> Comment please! Tell us what you think, and what elements you would like to see added to this universe. :)


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